


Moribund

by VenetaPsi



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Just Roll With It (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Blood and Violence, Character Study, Drabble, Drabble Sequence, Fantasy, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Graphic Description, Healthy Relationships, Humor, Inter-Party Relationships, Major Character Injury, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Not Canon Compliant, POV different character per chapter, Party as Family, Psychology, References to Canon, Serious Injuries, Spoilers, Swords & Sorcery, dying, fantasy fighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24804796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenetaPsi/pseuds/VenetaPsi
Summary: For my new friend, for letting me gush about JRWI and for getting me back into writing. Have some Sa'aad :D
Relationships: Br'aad Vengolor & Everyone, Br'aad Vengolor & Mountain, Br'aad Vengolor & Sylnan Vengolor, Br'aad Vengolor & Velrisa, Mountain & Sylnan Vengolor, Taxi & Br'aad Vengolor, Velrisa & Sylnan Vengolor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DynamiteMars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DynamiteMars/gifts).



> For my new friend, for letting me gush about JRWI and for getting me back into writing. Have some Sa'aad :D

Br’aad Vengolor was intimately familiar with death. It shaped his life; shaped his world. He’d had his fair share of experiences with it. He was an orphan, after all. Or thought he had been, until he was roughly twenty one years old and faced mortal combat with his father. 

But when someone had spent their childhood wandering graveyards; their adolescence comforting a mourning older brother and grieving themself over the loss of someone who was the closest thing they had to a mother, and their adulthood facing down creature after creature dead set on  _ killing _ them and bringing said brother back from the dead-

Said person became quite cozied up to the dark beyond that everyone feared. 

Br’aad did not fear death. 

Maybe it was because the half-elf was so used to it. Maybe it was the knowledge that death wasn’t necessarily permanent, as evidenced by his living, breathing sibling- though Br’aad suspected Sylnan was more of an exception then a rule. But regardless of the reason- Br’aad had never felt a need to fear death. He ought to save that fear for something  _ worth _ being afraid of. 

Like cows. 

But dying one’s self...changed perspectives on things. 

And Br’aad was quite sure he was dying. 

First off, he could scarcely breath. Or maybe he could breathe perfectly fine and was just forcing his body into short, shallow gasps because anything deeper was agony. Pinpricks of pain laced his chest, his lungs, his ribs- jabbing down each time his chest rose too far, and the air was forced shakily from his lungs each time as white spots danced in front of his eyes. 

His mind was roaming too. Going on tangents about fearing death and his past and lamenting. Well the lamenting wasn’t new. But quite likely he should be more focused on surviving this encounter. Except it was nice to drift on memories rather than put in the extra effort to stay conscious. 

He heard a familiar voice- Sylnan. Br’aad honestly had no clue what his older brother even said- something about ‘rattlesnakes’, it had sounded like- no, that couldn’t be right. But Sylnan was shouting, so it was probably important. 

Br’aad took another shaky breath and instantly regretted it; a soft, uncontainable whimper of pain slipping free.

He was supposed to stay awake, right? Right- that’s what Vel always told Taxi or Mountain or anyone if they got mortally injured.  _ Now how did he do that. _

Grass. Br’aad focused on the grass below him. The coolness of the blades against his palms, slipping between his fingers. The tickling sensation against his neck and ears; like his hair rustling, but sharper. Less soft. 

As he slowly calmed himself; dragged himself a tiny bit further back from the brink, he began to hear the sounds of fighting once more. Distractedly, he wondered why neither Vel or Taxi were crouched at his side, healing him. Surely he needed it. 

He couldn’t open his eyes; just the idea was exhausting. But his ears required no such effort, and his senses were overwhelmed with the sound of metal on metal; panicked shouting and distant grunts of exertion. A high, animalistic shriek split through the noise, and Br’aad remembered beady yellow eyes boring down at him- a curved, razor-sharp talon gliding almost gracefully into his chest; tearing at the skin like it was tissue paper. 

He might have applauded if it hadn’t hurt so bad. 

Br’aad went to inhale again; it was something rhythmic and simple to do- only he choked on something in the back of his throat. His coughing fit wracked his frame and tears filled his eyes as he convulsed, white hot  _ agony _ ripping through him with each twitch of his body, each jagged heave of his chest. Warm, wet liquid dribbled out of his mouth as he hacked up mouthfuls of copper- blood. He was choking on blood.

And for the first time, in the haze of the pain- Br’aad was scared. Another choking cough caused his body to flinch, and he began to feel helpless. He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t do  _ anything _ but vomit up blood and know that each unpreventable cough was damaging himself further. 

He wanted to call out to somebody- anybody. He wanted his friends. His  _ brother. _

Br’aad wanted Sylnan to pull him into a hug like he was a five year old boy again and tell him he'll always protect him. He wanted this to be another bumped head, another scratched knee. 

He clawed at his chest desperately as breathing became impossible- as he felt his own lungs clog with liquid. His fingers dug into the wound in his sternum, grew hot and sticky with the blood spilling out of him at a fatal rate. 

And Br’aad was so very afraid. 

His hearing began to fade into a soft, almost gentle ringing. A faint buzz, like sea breezes off the Wharf docks. A strange calm washed over him; a tiredness. He felt his fingers still, his arms fall limp to his sides. He coughed still, but his mind felt detached; no longer did he really  _ feel _ himself going through the motion. 

Something warm built up deep in his chest and spread slowly, washing over his middle, crawling up his arms and legs. He tried to inhale, but his chest wouldn’t move. His punctured lungs didn’t expand. 

He felt blissful. 

Unconsciousness welcomed him like a soft, familiar friend. 


	2. Chapter 2

Mountain was no healer. 

In fact, he wasn’t a magic user in the slightest. He had absolutely no affinity for the junk. Nada. Zilch. 

Yet in the chaos of the fight, it was him who reached Br’aad’s side first. 

As much as Mountain despised ‘mushy’ shit- he cared about this group. The Fated, or whatever the fuck they called themselves. His friends, he prefered. Too many times, he’d seen his companions on the brink of death. Or carried their corpse through miles of underground tunnels. 

Now he fell to his knees in the grass, his sword clattering down beneath him, extinguishing with a soft puff of smoke. 

Br’aad was deathly pale; skin near white. There was no color in his face beside the dark slashes of crimson blood that trailed thin lines from the corners of his lips down his cheeks and across his neck. He wasn’t moving. Mountain wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. Clumsily the dwarf reached down to press both of his palms against the gaping wound in Br’aad’s chest. There was nothing he could do really; pressure meant nothing when he’d already lost so much blood. Mountain knew nothing of medicine, but the ground was soaked with red; Br’aad’s front drenched in it.

He was dying. Or perhaps already dead. 

Mountain should be fighting. There was nothing he could do for Br’aad- the least he could give him was slaying the enemy that had struck him down. But the dwarf felt almost numb, staring down at the silent, cold half-elf. A face he was so used to seeing alight with mischief and life; boundless energy.

Mountain’s hands trembled ever so slightly. 

“Don’t you dare fucking die,” He growled; voice coming out raspy and strained. He glanced over his shoulder in a panic, sweeping the destroyed ruins that were their battle field. The taloned beast unlike any he’d seen that stood thirty feet high in the center of it all. 

Velrisa and Taxi were nowhere to be seen; trapped still, Mountain assumed, from when the beast had shattered the tower they’d been inside of. He swallowed down his fear that their two companions’ bodies were cooling beneath the rubble. They were alive under there. They had to be. All they needed was time.

His fingers itched, sticky with blood. 

_ They didn’t have time. _

Sylnan was fighting for his life single handedly against the creature. The rogue dodged wildly between its legs to try and avoid the slashing claws, dagger in hand, dealing furious, almost panicked blows. Mountain needed to help him. Sylnan could die without his aid.

He looked back down at Br’aad. 

Clumsily, one of his rough hands rose to touch Br’aad’s neck; to search for a pulse. He didn’t know if he was doing it right. His fingers touched cool skin and warm blood. He didn’t feel anything. 

Something hot and furious and cold and pained all at once swirled up in his throat, choking him. He couldn’t lose someone else. He refused. This party, these people- they meant too much to him. 

Velrisa would never make it in time. Neither would Taxi. Sylnan was in danger. 

_ Br’aad was dying. _

__ The terrible, all encompassing emotion felt almost tangible for a second; like a presence in his chest. Then the dwarf felt suddenly unbearably hot. Almost feverish. 

Before his very eyes, Mountain watched his own fingertips glow a soft, orangish-red. He felt a longing. A determination.  _ He will. Not. Lose. _

__ Br’aad lunged up with a scream. 

A heart wrenching,  _ terrible _ noise of pain and fear and desperation, but Gods above he was  _ alive. _ Mountain caught the half-elf around the middle, lowering him back to the ground. He was injured still; severely. That much was clear by Br’aad’s short, pained, panicked breaths and the blood trickling out of his chest from the noticeably smaller, but still very dangerous wound. 

“Don’t move,” Mountain ground out, pressing Br’aad’s shoulders into the ground. “Don’t you move, Br’aad. Just lie there. Lie there, okay?” He saw the half-elf give a tiny, almost indistinguishable nod. “You’re gonna be okay. Just don’t move.” The dwarf repeated himself almost frantically as he stood up, resisting the urge to look at his own hand and make sure it wasn’t someone else's. This wasn’t the time. 

He trembled slightly as he turned away from Br’aad’s prone form to face down the beast that was a serious threat to Sylnan. Whether it was exhaustion from... _ whatever _ had just happened or the relief that Br’aad was alive- he didn’t know. 

But Mountain had another friend to save. He crouched down, scooping up his sword, and the blaze of fire that burst to life, the faint orange glow; was comforting. 

He let out a roar and charged the beast. 


	3. Chapter 3

Sylnan whirled on the ball of his foot, using his momentum to propel himself to the side, dagger clenched in hand. His rapier was long since gone; dropped in the chaos and he didn’t have time to find it. His every nerve, every focus was solely on the creature above him. He didn’t have time to think of anything else but immediate survival.

Survival first. 

_ Survive. Then Br’aad. Nothing else mattered. _

He ducked a swing as the beast slashed out at him; large claw bared, sweeping past the air an inch from his head with deadly speed. Sylnan didn’t give himself time to so much as breathe; he just threw his arm out, slamming his knife into the thigh of the creature. 

It roared furiously; angry and piercing and Sylnan ripped his dagger free, already running to try and get out of the way of the incoming attack. Before the beast could turn on him once more, a battle cry startled the rogue out of his trance, and he twisted his head to see Mountain charging; flaming sword raised above his head. The dwarf slashed once, twice; causing the beast to let out another anguished cry. 

Mountain’s shout of “SYLNAN! NOW, WHILE IT’S DISTRACTED!” had the elder half-elf launching into action; grabbing a hold of a strap hanging from the beast’s belt and kicking off a fallen boulder. He swung around the creature’s leg and in a fit of petty rage, drove his knife up exactly where he hoped the creature's genitalia would be. A split second later he realized that might’ve been a mistake when the beast  _ roared _ and slammed its fist down directly into Sylnan’s side; sending him crashing painfully to the ground. 

He heard something snap and a sudden sharp pain built up in his side from the impact- so strong that for a second he couldn’t breathe. Sylnan dearly prayed it wasn’t a broken rib. He took a sharp breath and bit his tongue against the pain as he clambered to his feet, determined. 

He couldn’t let himself look over at Br’aad. Sylnan knew he’d abandon the fight the second he laid eyes on his baby brother. There wasn’t anything he could do- not without their healers. He locked eyes with the beast; stared into the putrid, yellow sunken pits that glowered back and raised his dagger threateningly, mustering the most winning smile he could (that probably appeared more as a pained grimace). 

The rogue charged; one arm wrapped around his middle and the other brandishing his weapon as he slipped into melee range once more, slashing at the back of the creature’s knee. Mountain had caused a suitable distraction- enough that Sylnan went unnoticed in his quick movement, and he heard the beast yowl in pain as the blade sunk in deep. Thick, brownish blood spilled out in a molasses-like waterfall as Sylnan yanked the dagger free, stumbling back. 

From behind Sylnan, the crumbled remains of the nearby tower exploded outward; rocks streaking away from the epicenter. Sylnan ducked into a crouch and rolled ( _ Gods that hurt- _ ), narrowly escaping the collision, but the beast wasn’t so lucky. Multiple boulders slammed into it at full speed; sending it reeling, body bruised and bloodied. 

Sylnan twisted his head to see Taxi amid the cloud of dust that had filled the air since the explosion; staff leveled forward and eyes wide, as if the Tabaxi hadn’t expected such an extreme result. Flashes of green mist still curled around his wrists. 

“VEL! HELP BR’AAD!” Mountain shouted, and Sylnan saw the purple tiefling whirl towards the direction the dwarf had pointed. Velrisa’s cloak unfurled around her shoulders like a wave; a flicker of white and purple before she was gone; streaking through the air at breakneck pace, purple feather wings still in the process of forming on her back. 

Taxi sprinted towards the main fight, and Sylnan turned back to face the battered beast; determination and courage renewed. He and Mountain circled around it; maintaining a constant flank as Taxi bounded forward- giving the tabaxi time to situate himself and spring upward, slamming first his fist then whirling to drive his heel firmly into the gut of the creature. It fell backwards as Taxi landed with his feet once more firmly planted on the ground, and Sylnan dove for the beast. 

_ Br’aad raised his arm- golden light exploding outward from his palm and wrapping around his arm like a gauntlet of swirling energy. “SUGGESTION!” He yelled- voice booming with power and for a second Sylnan himself almost skidded to a halt. “SURRENDER!” _

__ _ The creature stared at the blonde half-elf, and for a second it seemed to hesitate; eyes taking on the same hue of Br’aad’s vibrant magic.  _

__ _ Then the fog cleared from it’s vision and it lunged, arm shooting out.  _

__ _ The talon of its extended appendage ran Br’aad straight through; the tip protruding out his back, glistening with blood. Br’aad’s expression was shocked; wide eyed and blank, and slowly- ever so slowly, his expression shifted into one of pain.  _

__ _ Sylnan felt his own scream of “NO!” rip from his throat as the beast yanked its arm back, leaving Br’aad wobbling there, shirt quickly turning from blue to red. His little brother sank slowly to the ground; falling to his knees and then slumping forward onto the grass, rolling as he fell to lie on his back. Pooled in a puddle of red and blue cloth and blond hair strewn askew.  _

__ _ His eyes were closed, and he was very limp. _

__ Sylnan slammed his dagger into the beast’s exposed middle as hard as he could; dragging the blade downward and cutting a long, deep gasp straight through it’s stomach. The beast gasped up at him soundlessly; only a soft, whispering wheeze escaped it’s lips. 

Then as Sylnan pulled his knife back out; dripping brown goop, the creature shuddered and went still. 


	4. Chapter 4

Velrisa shot across the ruins, the air whipping at her face as she beelined for the prone figure on the ground; the lump of pale skin and blonde hair lying in the grass. She could hear her companions shouting from behind her, but forced herself to tune them out- they were more than capable. They could handle themselves. 

She landed hard on her knees at Br’aad’s side, feeling the cloak settle heavily on her shoulders as it deactivated. Already she bent over the pale half-elf, pressing her palm against the bloodied wound on his chest. 

Out of the whole party, Br’aad was the one she had healed the least. Now as the familiar warmth blossomed in her chest, seeped into her fingers- she felt something  _ different. _ A magical signature about Br’aad that was familiar, but unrecognizable. Something new. 

She dismissed the thought to focus on the healing; pouring as much energy into Br’aad as she possibly could. Through the haze of magic that made her dizzy, she saw color slowly returning to Br’aad’s cheeks; saw his chest begin to rise more smoothly as below her fingertips, his skin knit back together. 

She pulled her hand back, panting slightly from the strain. Br’aad was still soaked in blood, clothes torn- but his chest was unwounded; only a thin, pale scar marking where the injury had once been. Br’aad groaned lightly, fingers twitching before his eyes fluttered open and he stared half-lidded up at her. 

“...’t hurts,” He mumbled, and Velrisa bent over him, gently pressing his shoulders down as the half-elf struggled to sit up. 

“I know. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t get up- you’ve lost a lot of blood, Br’aad.” She ordered as gently as she could manage. She was never good at the bedside manner portion of healing. “Stay here for the fight. I need to help the others-”

Almost as though to refute her words, the ground suddenly shuddered as a ‘CRASH!’ rang out across the space. She whirled, left hand flying automatically towards her mace- only to see the... _ beast _ they’d been fighting motionless on the ground, Sylnan’s dark figure standing over it. 

For a long moment there was silence; just heavy breathing as the whole party stared at each other, adrenaline still pumping hard. 

  
  


“Well,” Mountain finally broke the stillness as he stepped away from the creature, looking around at the rubble around them; sword clutched in a visibly trembling hand. “Anything else gonna fuckin’ spring at us? HUH?” 

If anything heard the challenge, nothing appeared. 

Sylnan seemed to shake himself out of whatever stupor he had been in and looked up sharply to meet Velrisa’s eyes. He took off sprinting towards her, clumsily sheathing his dagger, and Velrisa turned back to lower herself once more at Br’aad’s side now that the danger had passed. 

A quick scan of Br’aad’s body showed he wasn’t in peril anymore. His large wound was sealed, and anything else was rather minor bruises or cuts that were already starting to fade or close, or otherwise weren't threatening. Velrisa slipped an arm around his back to help the half-elf slowly sit up as Sylnan fell to his knees beside her. A quick glance to the side showed that he too was roughed up; littered with cuts and an arm wrapped around his torso, face contorted with pain. But the elder brother only seemed to have eyes for Br’aad. 

“I’ve healed him- he’s going to be alright,” Velrisa reassured at the exact same moment Br’aad lifted his head slightly and mumbled, “..’m fine, Sylnan.” 

“Devines-” Sylnan swore softly, reaching around Br’aad’s other side to help Velrisa sit him up. “Gods.  _ Br’aad. _ You can’t _ do _ that to me.” 

“It was almost-  _ almost _ really cool,” Br’aad protested weakly, raising a shaking hand to his temple and wincing. 

“You’re probably going to be quite weak for a while,” Velrisa informed him. “You need rest.” Then she looked up at Sylnan. “I need to look at your brother.”

“...Sylnan’s hurt?” Br’aad twisted his head to look at the elder, alarm filling his voice, and Sylnan gave him a faint, almost embarrassed smile. “It’s just- Well, I’m a little banged up.”

Velrisa turned her head away from the two just so she could roll her eyes. These brothers were going to be the death of her. 

Mountain and Taxi had approached by now, and she raised her head to meet the tabaxi’s gaze. “Can you heal Br’aad any further?” She asked, and Taxi nodded solemnly as she slowly stood up, the cat taking her place at Br’aad’s side as he laid a hand carefully on his forearm. Velrisa circled the cluster and offered Sylnan a hand up- frowning in concern when simply rising to his feet caused Sylnan visible distress. 

“What happened?” She asked, sweeping his body. He winced and lifted an arm, motioning to his exposed side. 

“It-  _ ah! _ Slammed me into the ground. I think my ribs are messed up. I..heard something snap. Or crack.” She winced sympathetically and stepped closer, gently laying her palm against his side. On a whim, she went for restoration magic over healing; ignoring the low aching pain at the nape of her neck that always came after a day of extensive magic. As the arcana slowly worked, she watched Sylnan’s expression slowly relax until he let out a soft sigh of relief. A quick flick of magic to scan confirmed the bones were as they should be, and she stepped back; feeling relief crash down around her. They were all okay. Alive. They’d survived another encounter. 

“Don’t push it,” She warned, pointing a lavender finger at the stubborn rogue. “None of your crazy rolling and jumping for at least a few days- you’ll just injure yourself again.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Sylnan admitted, and unfortunately, she knew it was true. Who knew if they’d have to fight something later that day. Or tomorrow. Or tonight. She looked over at their other friends, crossing her arms over her chest and closing her eyes briefly, letting the wave of exhaustion wash over her. When she opened them again, she saw that Sylnan was already sitting cross-legged beside Br’aad. 

For once the blonde seemed to lean tiredly into his brother’s comfort rather than playfully bat it away. 

“Hey Vel.” a quiet voice interrupted her thoughts as she glanced to the side to see Mountain looking up at her seriously. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

She stepped to the side with him, taking in how uncomfortable the dwarf looked. Nervous almost. 

“What’s wrong Mountain?” She asked as tactfully as she could, lowering herself to sit on a toppled column, wincing at the strain of wearing heavy armor for so long. Despite her attempt at a neutral tone, the dwarf frowned at her and snorted, “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Of course,” She said agreeably, and a soft silence stretched over them as she waited expectantly. 

“Gods be damned,” the dwarf finally groaned, sinking down to sit on the pillar beside her. “Alright. Something- weird happened. Some magic shit.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the seated brothers. 

“Something...magic,” She repeated, but already the tiefling’s mind had slipped to the signature she’d picked up on; the strange buzz of arcana floating around Br’aad’s injury.

“Yeah. Some of your healy jumbo. With Br’aad. I think I ah- I did something.”

“You- you  _ healed _ Br’aad?” Velrisa asked, and even as her tone came out incredulous, a part of her wasn’t surprised. “I thought you weren’t-”

“Weren’t a magic user? Me too.” Mountain grumbled. “I mean- I’m not. This was some sort of one time thing. I just- I panicked. He was dying, or dead and I couldn’t let him go.”

Velrisa could hear the strain- the confusion and uncomfortable edge in Mountain’s voice. He was out of his depth. She understood the feeling intimately. 

“Well...regardless of the how or the why,” She began after a second, choosing her words carefully, “I do believe you saved his life, Mountain. He would have been dead before I reached him. I felt...your magical signature, I suppose. Perhaps you have something inherent in you, or maybe it was a spontaneous manifestation- your emotions tying to this area's power. But it was a blessing.”

“...I suppose,” Mountain said uneasily, and Velrisa got the feeling he wanted to never think about what had occurred ever again. She took pity on him and instead said, “Taxi is getting better at healing.”

“I think he’s only doing it because of us,” Mountain admitted gruffly. “For how ‘ooo flowers’ he is, healy shit doesn’t really seem like his forte. He’s a very offensive fighter. And also a goody-two-shoes. Bloody hypocrite.”

Mountain pulled the flask off of his belt and took a long swig, and Velrisa suppressed a smile. Despite his rough words, Mountain’s tone was fond. 

“Regardless...I’m proud of him,” She said, and Mountain gave her an annoyed look. 

“...I know what you’re doing girly. I ain’t gonna complement him.”

“I know,” She chuckled, rising to her feet and brushing the dirt and flecks of stone from her clothes. “Shall we make sure our half-elves aren’t about to die on us?”

“I guess,” Mountain agreed, wiping his mouth and screwing the lid back onto his flask. “Stupid beast.”

“Stupid beast,” Velrisa agreed. 


End file.
